the land will claim me too as it did you

looking down at the angels above you
swimming in the æther surrounding
the smell of your wounded heart and soul.


shoveling the sweat-saturated dirt and gravel
digging a hole and covering another grave
so much to get done, so little time left
drive, drive, drive the road north
to the end of the highway that ends in water


the smell of burning hair and rubber
the weight of years


experience


too little too often left me too distant and wanting
wanting to take the reigns and leave this western town
holding on, hoping against hope i remained
waiting.
rusting into the ground.
the land will claim me too as it you.
as it you.


i suppose its always the same:
we look to finish we look to leave others
with sufficient provisions
but we never really do.


as a son says "goodbye" he hopes his own is better prepared.
but it won't be.


"even in a crowded room
we all die alone," he said.